


Band Practice

by notaverygoodwriter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Gayness, High School AU, Jazz - Freeform, Jazz Band AU, Just read it i worked hard i swear, Music, Pining, Slow Burn, band au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-06 08:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20504081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaverygoodwriter/pseuds/notaverygoodwriter
Summary: Clarke Griffin has one dream: to get into her school's elite jazz band. But when Clarke becomes their new bassist she finds herself growing more attracted to their drummer, Lexa Woods. The only problem? The band's strict no dating policy. Will she give up her dream to be with Lexa? Or will she choose her love of music over her love of Lexa?ORThe high school jazz band au with lots of gay pining and music.





	1. An Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> You've clicked! Amazing. No, no. Don't click away. It's good, i promise. Well, since writing is subjective and all it might not be good to you, but--  
okay i'll stop.

“We need a bassist.”

That’s where it all kicked off, with those four words. That’s where Clarke Griffin’s heart stopped and she wanted to pinch herself to make sure this wasn’t a dream. She was standing in front of her music teacher Mr. Kane almost speechless. Almost. Thank god she wasn’t more than almost speechless because then she wouldn’t have said yes.

“We need a bassist in the jazz band. I know you’re still in tenth grade, so you’d be the youngest one there, but you’re good. It’s hard music but I think you can manage. What do you say, Clarke? Are you in?” Kane asked.

“Are you kidding? Of course I’m in!” Clarke exclaimed, suddenly ecstatic.

“ Great. We have practice today after school. I hope to see you there.”

“I’ll be there.”

And with that he walked away.

Jazz band was elite. Invitation only. An exclusive club for only the best of the best in the music program at Arkadia High. The music was hard. Difficult. And Kane was meticulous. Clarke knew how much of a challenge it would be to do well, especially against the other more experienced, more seasoned musicians.

Especially a certain someone that Clarke had her eye on. But that’s not where we are right now. That comes later. Where we are right now, is Clarke screaming internally while she tries to maintain a cool, calm façade.

This is what she’s wanted for a long time. Okay, well not that long. She had only started high school a year ago, and it was only the start of September at the time that she had gotten this offer, but it felt like a lifetime that she was working towards this. She was ready.  
Probably. Maybe. Hopefully. Maybe a little extra practice wouldn’t hurt.

And so as soon as Clarke got a moment, she pulled out her bass guitar, and….

Didn’t know what to play?

No, this couldn’t be happening. Clarke always knew what to play. She couldn’t be stuck. Not now. What did she play before? Think. Scales.  
And so she played scales. Or, she tried to. What were the notes in an arpeggio again?

Maybe it was because she had skipped out half her lunch to go into the music room and find a practice room. Or maybe it was because she took summer school and didn’t have time to play. But no theory was as solid as the one saying she was nervous as hell.

But enough of that. Enough of Clarke being too overwhelmed with emotion to play. Luckily, Mr. Kane walked into the practice room to interrupt this awful circumstance. It was small, the practice room, meant only for two or three people with their instruments, and Clarke jumped in her chair a bit when the door opened suddenly without warning, but relaxed as she saw it was just Kane.

He was holding a couple pieces of paper, completely focused on rearranging them, not bothering to look up at Clarke. As Clarke focused her vision she saw what those pieces of paper really were.

Sheet music.

“So these are the tunes we’re playing at the competition in December.” He said, handing Clarke the music.

There were three songs, the “Whiplash” version of Caravan, Feeling Good by Nina Simone, and Polka-dots and Moonbeams

“So what do you think? Can you handle it?” Kane asked.

“Um, yeah. Definitely.” Clarke was lying through her teeth. Luckily Kane didn’t notice.

And so for the rest of her lunch break, Clarke attempted to play the bass, something that should have come easy for her.

*

“I don’t know what happened.” Clarke said. Her friend Octavia was sitting in front of her in science class, spinning her safety glasses around her finger, the other hand impatiently tapping a test tube on the in the absolute least rhythmic way possible.

“It’s just nerves, Clarke. You were always talking about how big of a deal this band is and how much you want to get in, and you finally did. Now stop being nervous and start being excited. This is exciting.” She said, attempting to calm Clarke down. “Just watch. As soon as you go meet the rest of the band you’ll see you have nothing to worry about and you can play again.”

Octavia’s words didn’t exactly soothe her the way Octavia was intending for them to. In fact, they only made Clarke’s nerves even worse.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even think about meeting the rest of the band. What if they hate me? What if they think I’m a horrible bassist?”

Octavia rolled her eyes and stopped tapping. She looked straight at Clarke, putting her hand on Clarke’s shoulder reassuringly.

“You. Will. Be. Fine.”

“I will?”

“Yeah.” She started tapping again. “You can’t fail worse than my brother did at his first practice.”

Clarke was suddenly intrigued. She lifted an eyebrow.

“Why? What happened at Bellamy’s first band practice?”

“I put Orajel on his mouthpiece.” Octavia answered. What was worse than the fact that Clarke knew that the prank probably cost Bellamy the 1st trumpet position was the fact that Octavia’s face grew a smirk.

“Please tell me you didn’t sabotage my bass.”

“Of course not! I only did it because Bell was pissing me off.”

Octavia didn’t really get Clarke’s obsession to music. Listening to it, playing it, practically living and breathing it, but she respected, accepted, and admired it, which for Clarke, was enough. Similarly, Clarke didn’t really get Octavia’s devotion to athletics, but still made sure to cheer loud at games and matches and events, even if it was just through a recording made by someone with enough free time to physically be there.

“And besides,” Octavia started. “I wouldn’t step a foot in Kane’s classroom, he scares me. And that says a lot.”

“Kane acts all tough and hostile but everyone who really knows him knows he’s real soft. Sentimental even.” And it was true. It took Clarke about six months to realize it, but Kane wasn’t as intimidating as he wanted to appear. Everyone in the Jazz Band knew it too, at least Clarke assumed they knew.

Oh god, Jazz Band. That was in just a couple hours. After school. What was Clarke thinking? Beginning to relax and think sweet thoughts. But, then a thought crossed her mind, a thought that she had been pushing to the back of her head ever since Kane had invited her. Yeah, she would probably fail miserably at playing bass and embarrass herself, but there was one upside. Even if she did fail, it would all be worth it, going to band practice.

At band practice, she would lay her eyes upon a goddess. She would lay her eyes upon Lexa Woods.


	2. A Formal Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so apparently people are actually reading this. I'm never going to get used to it. But here's the second chapter.

Lexa Woods. Lexa. Woods. Clarke said the name over and over again in her head. The name of the girl that she hadn’t stopped thinking about in a year.

The invitation to be the new jazz band bassist might have been where this whole story kicked off, but it wasn’t where it started.

It started a year prior to where it kicked off. It started Clarke’s first week of high school. It started when one of Kane’s favourite students Lexa Woods came into the music room and knocked on the practice room of where Clarke was trying to figure out what the knobs on her bass guitar did while the her best friend and alto saxophonist in her class, Wells, was trying to figure out what to tell Kane about his chipped reed.

“He said to be careful. It’s only been three days and I’ve already chipped it.” Wells said.

“You have to tell him eventually.” Clarke told him.

“But do I really have to?”

“How long do you think you can keep it up? What happens when he wants to hear you play?”

“I’ll just get another reed, Clarke. It’ll be fine.”

Then there was the knock. Clarke suddenly sat up straighter, just in case it was Kane outside the door.

“What are you doing? Open it!.” Clarke said. “And hide the reed.”

Wells quickly put the reed back in its case and hid the case in the palm of his hand as Clarke opened the door. To her surprise, it was not Kane, but instead a dark haired, green eyed, strong armed eleventh grader whose name Clarke didn’t receive. She pointed at the back corner of the room, at a pair of drumsticks on the ground. 

“Can I just, you know.” She said.

Wells picked up the sticks and handed them to her, while Clarke stared in awe of the her, who was by far the most captivating person she had ever seen.

She put her hand on the sticks, but stopped short of taking them. She looked down at Wells’ other hand, the one with the reed in it.

“You should tell him. About that.” She took the sticks, and then left without another word.

And at that very moment was when Clarke knew that the drummer girl would ruin her life and Clarke would let her.

Eventually though, despite the lack of a formal introduction, Clarke learned her name and that she was the drummer for the school’s jazz band. And up until where it all kicked off, that was pretty much all that Clarke knew about her.

On another day, when Clarke and Wells were in that same practice room, they heard a sound. The unmistakable sound of a drum kit. Clarke didn’t need to look through the window of the practice room across from theirs to know who was playing.

Nobody, absolutely nobody could play like Lexa. That was what she knew for sure.

A rock swing rhythm, one that was perfect, flawless. Everything on tempo, not missing a beat. In that moment all Clarke wanted was to break down the walls separating her ear from Lexa’s drumming, or at least open the doors that muffled the sound of her sweet music.

Or maybe just shut up Wells’ saxophone.

“Can you be quiet for one second, Wells?”

The awful squeak of his sax stopped. There was no sugar coating it. Wells was just plain bad at playing the instrument. But Clarke didn’t really care. They had known each other forever, and were better friends than anyone could ever imagine. In fact, the only reason Clarke took music was so she and Wells would have at least one non-mandatory class in common. That was all before she discovered she was actually _good _at bass, however. If only Wells could have been in her class again. 

“Why?” He asked. But he didn’t need a response. As soon as he heard those drums, that music, he knew why Clarke asked him to be quiet, even if it was in a rather mean tone.

“Oh, I get it.” He smirked. Bad move. As soon as Clarke saw his expression her face went serious and she playfully punched him in the shoulder.

Well, it was playful to Clarke, to Wells, it just hurt.

“Ow! Why did you have to do it so hard?” He rolled up his short sleeved shirt sleeve to his shoulder, revealing the spot where Clarke hit him getting redder and redder. He got up.

“Was it really that hard? I didn’t mean to do it that hard, Wells. Where are you going?”

“To the nurse!”

“You’re not going to tell anyone that I punched you, right? I didn’t mean to do it that hard.”

“Of course not. You’d cover me if I broke a rule, right? Not that I’d do that. Unlike you, I actually _care _whether or not I get suspended or expelled.”

“Really? When are you going to realize that you can do whatever the hell you want and not get in trouble for it. There are perks to being the only child of the principal, perks that you should take advantage of, Wells. You could smash out the window and not get a single day of detention.”

“I _have _morals, Clarke.”

And with that he walked out.

This left Clarke to press her ear against the door of the practice room, catching the sound of the snare and the ride, a couple bars of it before the bass drum kicked in and the rhythm got more complicated. And more complicated. And more.

“Jesus Christ.” Clarke muttered under her breath to nobody in particular.

But all of that was a long time ago.

Months had gone by since that and now Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about her.

At first, it was just whenever she saw Lexa that her mind was fixated, her gaze captivated. But all that would end as soon as Lexa was out of sight. There was no reason for Clarke to think about her any other time, no motivation, she barely knew her, if she knew her at all.

But now. Now was different. Every waking moment was dominated by Lexa Woods. Her eyes, her mouth, her hands, her music. Clarke longed to feel close to Lexa, and every single new fact that she learned about her was one more thing to love about her.

Love.

Love.

She didn’t love Lexa. She couldn’t love her. She didn’t know her. Not yet. God, what if she fell in love? Could she ever love someone? She loved her mother in a familial way, she loved Wells in a platonic way, but in a romantic way? She had never felt that before. How would she even know if she was in love? Whatever this was, however she felt about Lexa, it wasn’t love.

Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so that was it. Next chapter's probably going to be up on Saturday. That's September 7th, if you didn't know or whatever.


	3. Static

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so heres the next chapter i hope you like it idk

The end of the day and the beginning of band practice came quicker than Clarke had expected. She knew almost nobody in band, with the exception of Bellamy, and even with him their interaction was limited. 

The saddest part came, however, when she thought about the fact that the only person she really felt comfortable around in the jazz band was Kane. The teacher. The goddamn teacher. That was sad. That was more than sad. It was devastating. She had to make some friends, and she had to do it fast. 

Who knows, maybe friendships could blossom into something more… especially a friendship with a certain very attractive dark haired and green eyed drummer whose name might rhyme with Schemexa Schmoods. Just maybe. 

As Clarke walked into the music room that she had been in a hundred times before, she couldn’t have seemed more alien. The comfort, the familiar-ness of the room was absent. Nervousness kicked in. Her heart started beating faster, and as much as she wanted to freeze in place, she couldn’t. She just kept walking. It was painfully obvious that Kane hadn’t told the rest of the band about her on account of all of the stares that she was getting.

About a half dozen people were in the room, the rest probably on their way. Kane was nowhere in sight.

And then. Bellamy. Finally, a familiar face. One that knew her, or was at least acquainted. 

“Hey, I didn’t know you’d be here.” He said, putting his mouthpiece in his trumpet. Suddenly, his face went serious. “You look paler than usual. Is Octavia okay?” 

“Oh. Oh yeah, she-she’s fine. She’s fine.” Clarke said, not bringing herself to look Bellamy in the eye. 

“What’s wrong, Clarke?” He asked. 

“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Do you know where the amplifier is?” 

“You’re playing with us? Oh right, you’re the new bassist. I heard some rumors going around but I didn’t think Kane found one this soon.” 

This is when Clarke eased up, relieved that she knew somebody and wasn’t completely alone. It was only when she looked around that she realized that the majority of the band had arrived and so had Kane, who was standing at the front of the room, plugging in his piano. When she looked back at Bellamy she realized that he was calling over some other members of the band. 

“Here, meet some other members.” Bellamy started. “This is the guitarist, Murphy. And here’s Monty, tenor sax one, and Raven’s trombone two. And you have to know Jasper, the keyboardist. And that guy over there,” He pointed over to the back corner, “That’s Lincoln. Trumpet one.” 

Clarke could hear the way Bellamy said that last bit. How his tongue stung every time he had to say that somebody other than him was trumpet one.

And then she walked in. The one and only Lexa Woods. She held her drumsticks in her hands twirling one around her finger as she stepped through the doorframe. The world stopped, or was moving slow enough that it gave the illusion of stopping. Either way it made Clarke’s eased heart beat fast again, although faster than before. It was like they were the only two people on earth, or at least in the music room. Although that might have just been because the crowd Clarke and Bellamy had accumulated has parted and resumed setting up.

“Who’s she?” Clarke asked. She didn’t need to, as she obviously already knew who she was, however Bellamy was her best chance at a proper introduction. 

“That’s Lexa, our drummer.” Bellamy said. And before she knew it, Bellamy was calling her over. “Lexa, meet Clarke. She’s Octavia’s friend and our new bassist.”

Lexa took both of the sticks in her left hand and held out her right for Clarke to shake. As they touched hands, a shock ran through Clarke’s hand to Lexa’s. A literal one. Static electricity’s a bitch. 

“Sorry.” Clarke apologized, but Lexa ignored it, raising an eyebrow. Their eyes met.

“I’ve seen you before. You were in the first semester class last year, right?" 

“Yeah, I was.”

“I’ve heard you play. You’re good.”

Clarke blushed hard, even if she didn’t want to. And with a small ‘thanks’ and Kane calling up the band to get ready faster, their conversation ended. Clarke wished it hadn’t, and hoped that Lexa felt the same.

As Clarke found an amplifier and hooked it up to the bass, all she could think about was Lexa, and their brief interaction. She stood with Jasper and Murphy in the Rhythm Section as Lexa took a seat behind the drum-set, taking out her sheet music and carefully displaying it on her stand. 

Clarke naturally dropped her stand, creating a loud thump that silenced the noisy room. Everyone stared at her, the people she was introduced to, the people that she wasn’t introduced to. They all watched as she awkwardly picked up the stand again and pretended that nothing happened. 

She straightened her shirt and took a seat. Soon enough, Kane called out the first song. He had told Clarke that she didn’t have to play if she didn’t want to, but it would make a good impression if she did.

And so she played. 

And so she played well. 

She wasn’t thinking of her failure to play earlier in the day, she barely even remembered it. In that moment, she wasn’t stressing out about tests or finals or friends or her feelings for Lexa. She was playing music. Music. That’s all. She was playing music. 

Sight-reading was her strong suit. She played through the entire song without making too many mistakes. Then she played through the other song. And then the last song. And she was good. Dare I say great, even. 

She took a breath every time the song ended and Kane gave them notes on their playing. She listened to everything he said very intently, even if it wasn’t necessarily directed at her. Clarke was no longer on earth. She was in music land, filled with hot drummers and silky smooth, smokey jazz.

And at last, Kane turned to her.

“You know, Clarke. Bassists are one of the most important people in a band. You can go without a trumpet, or a trombone or a saxophone, but no band is complete without a bassist.” He said. The other parts of the band weren’t paying attention. They were on their phone or zoning out or marking up their music with dulled pencils. “But bassists don’t just work alone. Every bassist should have a good relationship with the drummer.” 

Clarke looked over at Lexa, and to her surprise she was looking back. 

“Communication is very important. Make sure you two communicate, really connect. I need chemistry for this to work.” Kane continued. Clarke nodded. “Lexa? Are you hearing this?” 

“Loud and clear, Sir.” She responded with a down-turned nod of the head. 

“Don’t call me sir.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Kane sighed and gave it up. “Remember that for the competition. We have to get first place. Connection, communication and chemistry.”

Connection. Communication. Chemistry. Oh god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope all of the technical terms for music arent a turn off or anything. If they are i can have, like, definitions in the notes if you'd prefer or whatever.


	4. Garden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay hi guys so this is the next chapter hope u like it

After the practice was over, Kane approached Clarke and Lexa.

“Listen, ladies. Remember what I said earlier today. You two need to communicate. I can’t have another bass player and drummer feud, that was a disaster. I’m looking at you, Lexa. I know you didn’t get along with Roan, but I’m hoping you can get along with Clarke. Got it?” He turned to Clarke. “And you too, Clarke. Just try. Please. For me.”

They both nodded their head in agreement.

“Yes, sir.” Lexa said, giving a sarcastic, half-mocking but mostly just playing around salute.

Clarke knew how much Kane hated being called ‘sir’. He said it made him feel old, although she and her friends would often point out that Kane was aging and getting older was inevitable so he should warm up to the title soon. Lexa, being one of Kane’s favourites, could call him sir as much as she wanted, and as much as Kane hated it, he knew Lexa was only doing it to get to his head and to mock him and his aging self.

Clarke wondered what it would be like to grow old, if she would still feel the same way about the music she liked, the books she read, the places she visited, or maybe even felt the same way about Lexa. She wondered.

After Kane walked away and when Clarke was coiling up her instrument cable, she smelled the scent of sandalwood and looked up. Lexa Woods. Lexa Woods smelled of sandalwood. She wished that she could forget that, but it was forever engraved into her brain.

“Your arm.” She said.

“What?” Clarke asked.

Lexa pointed at Clarke’s arm. She was confused, and raising her arm along with her eyebrow, she examined it, not finding anything wrong with it.

“What’s wrong with my arm?” Clarke asked.

“It’s plain. Empty.” Lexa told her. This was when she touched Clarke’s arm, pulling it out and towards her. She brought out a black inked pen, uncapped it with her teeth, and began writing. She held Clarke’s arm with a firm, but still somewhat cautious grip, as if she was scared of crossing a line. Lexa seemed conflicted as her body was close enough to feel the heat of Clarke’s skin but her mind was somewhere else.

“There.” Lexa said, letting go of her arm. Clarke wished she hadn’t. “Kane said we should communicate, so I guess we should do that outside of practice too, right?”

And with that she walked away. Clarke looked down at her arm. It was her number. Her phone number. She had Lexa Woods’ phone number on her arm. Written by Lexa Woods. It was going to be a hell of a lot harder than Clarke thought to not fall in love with her.

*

Clarke replayed the memory of Lexa writing her number on Clarke’s arm over and over again, and would continue to do so until the memory was so worn out, so damaged and scratched and overused that she could replay it no more.

She replayed the feeling of her warm hand gripping the cold pen, the ink on her skin, the touch of Lexa’s fingers wrapping around her forearm to get a grip strong enough to write. She replayed the scent of her hair. It was faint, but memorable. Flowery, watered down. It was like a perfectly kept garden outside a mansion, with staffers attending to its every need and want. Bushes trimmed and grass cut evenly. The freshness of newly watered plants, with delicate, colourful flowers, and bright and fresh fruit. Her body, as mentioned before, smelled woody, like sandalwood. Also faint but just as memorable, seeming to oddly compliment the scent of her flower garden hair.

She felt a smile grow across her face as she walked home, an uncontrollable smile that she couldn’t stop. She put her head down and looked at the sidewalk cracks passing by for the rest of her walk.

*

_I’ll see you tomorrow then._

That was Lexa’s text to Clarke. They’re up to texting now. Clarke had just agreed to a jam session with Lexa the day after the day they’re on now. The jazz band practiced three times a week: Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. That left the weekend, Tuesdays and Thursdays as breaks. Normally, Clarke would be opposed to spending her incredibly rare free time practicing for band, but this was _Lexa_. She couldn’t turn down Lexa.

As she put her phone down she smiled, forgetting all about the history assignment that was due in two days. Which she hadn’t started yet. She tried to focus. Focus, focus, focus.

Just focus.

History.

But she couldn’t. Her mind began to wander. When they were freshmen, Clarke and Wells would do their homework together. Although they were in separate classes, all the homework and coursework was the same. And by doing their homework together, I mean Wells would do the work and Clarke would paraphrase it into her own sentences to avoid the teachers noticing that the work was essentially the same.

Clarke let out a quiet laugh at the thought of that memory. How they did it for the entire semester and yet nobody noticed. Maybe they did notice, though. Maybe they just didn’t care. Caring. Wells was caring. Every time Clarke would get some new crush on some new straight girl that she barely knew, or some douche bag guy who she was too good for, Wells listened intently. He would be the voice of reason, bringing Clarke back to reality from hormonal teenager land.

But he cared. He cared like nobody else. Even when he said straight up, ‘you’re delusional, wake up, Clarke’, he still did it in a way that was caring. He cared. He cared about Clarke. Clarke cared about him.

In a platonic way, of course.

Clarke was too busy lusting after other people to think of Wells as anything more than a friend. And Wells was asexual and aromantic, so he didn’t want to be with anyone in a more than friends type way.

Wells was Clarke’s go-to guy when Lexa did something hot, or when Clarke was having a mental breakdown, or when she stole her mother’s wine bottle one evening when she was working late and Clarke got rejected by some girl dressed head to toe in Adidas. She couldn’t even remember why she liked her.

She remembered that memory like it was yesterday.

“Put that down, you shouldn’t drink.” Wells said, taking the bottle from her.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Jaha. You’ve drank before.”

“That was different.”

“How?” She asked, cocking her head to the side, still attempting to swipe the bottle back. She was a mess, her hair like she had just rolled out of bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying, and her posture like she had nothing to live for. “How is you drinking different than me drinking?”

“You could get addicted, Clarke. It happens.”

“So could you.”

Wells put the bottle down behind him and grabbed Clarke by the shoulders.

“Clarke. Listen to me.” He started. “People don’t get addicted to alcohol, no matter what anyone tells you. They don’t. They get addicted to how it feels, to how it makes you feel, how it makes you think and act and how it dilutes pain. I got drunk out of curiosity, because I wanted to taste it. But you, you’re looking to make something go away, and alcohol isn’t going to do that. When you drink, it should be for the right reason, and making pain go away _isn’t _the right reason.”

Wells was so wise, so good at making the right decisions.

If only he was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so what did you think?


	5. Crowbar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so this is the next chapter. I initially planned on posting these in the mornings but mornings are hectic and all and--  
okay ill stop  
So heres the chapter

Clarke’s shoulder was hurting under the weight of her heavy bass guitar. Luckily, her Lexa in Shining Armor was there to catch her fall.

“Here, let me help you with that.” She said, taking Clarke’s amplifier and instrument cable, (weighing quite a few pounds, might I add) with ease.

Damn, those biceps.

It was a midday meeting, with the sun shining bright and hot in the middle of the sky, although they didn’t feel the full extent of the sun’s power that day, as it was partially obscured by clouds. When she was younger, this was her favourite kind of weather. She liked how the sun shot like a bullet through the gaps in the clouds, how it was hot enough to skip out on a coat, but not hot enough to sweat.

Wells liked it too.

“Thanks.” She said, a bit embarrassed that she couldn’t carry all her gear like Lexa probably could.

Lexa’s budget, worn out drum kit was in poor condition. Nothing like the high-end kit they had at the school. This one had dings and scratches and dents, sitting in the back of the garage of Lexa’s modest house. Her drum sticks were on the snare drum.

Clarke picked them up, putting her bass down.

“Crowbar.” She read. That was the world that was engraved on the stick. Crowbar.

Lexa turned to her.

“Yeah. They were my father’s. He gave them to me before he died. Loved Fiona Apple, especially that one song, ‘I know’. There’s a line in there, ‘so be it i’m your crowbar’. I guess it really stuck with him. He taught me everything I know.” 

Clarke didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want to say anything like ‘i’m sorry for your loss’ or some other prewritten cookie cutter expression for when someone dies. She had heard enough of that at Wells’ funeral, the days leading up to it, and the weeks following it. She hated it. They weren’t sorry. None of them. It’s just something that they said and Clarke had to thank them and be all polite when she just wanted to leave and go grieve in her own way.

And it was like the universe heard her, because before Clarke got a chance to respond, she heard a sound. Like a small pebble hitting stone. And another one. And another. She looked behind her.

Rain. Big, heavy droplets of water falling from the sky. The sounds of the raindrop beating against the driveway got closer together, and louder. Much louder. Soon, in no more than a few seconds, the spitting of the rain turned into the beating of a downpour.

Lexa grabbed Clarke by the arm and pulled her into the garage, but by the time that she did, Clarke was already drenched.

“It’s raining, Clarke!” She said while pulling her in.

Clarke was too mesmerized by the heaviness of the rain. The white fluffy clouds turned grey so quickly, and the perfect weather turned sour in an instant.

“Damnit.” Clarke said, running her hand through her wet hair and scowling at her soaked clothes. 

(there are a lot of places this story could go right now but they are teenagers in this story)

Lexa took note of Clarke’s expression and lit up with an idea.

“Don’t worry. I can fix this.” And with that, Lexa put down her sticks and rain straight into the driveway, becoming equally as drenched at Clarke. Except she stayed out there.

“You really didn’t have to do that.” Clarke shouted over the loud rain.

“No, i didn’t. But I wanted to. What kind of a host would I be if I didn’t?” Lexa said, smiling.

She walked back into the garage, wiping the water off her face with her sleeve. It didn’t work, obviously. Lexa left to go get towels for them from inside the house as Clarke set up her bass. She played a couple notes just before Lexa came back out.

After they had gotten somewhat dry, Lexa sat down behind her drum kit and began playing.

“Just go with the flow, play anything.” Lexa said.

Clarke tried. She tried playing but it didn’t sound too good. No, it sounded bad. Terrible, even. Lexa stopped.

“That’s alright, not too big on improvising. Let’s just play through a tune. Let’s go to Caravan. After the solo.” Lexa said. Clarke nodded and looked to Lexa to begin.

And again. Bad. Bad playing. Awful. She got the notes wrong, and when she didn’t, the rhythm was off.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening.” Clarke said, embarrassed.

Lexa put her sticks down and sat down on the amplifier next to Clarke. “Are you okay, Clarke? I know you can play. I’ve heard you before and you’re good. What’s up?” She looked up at Clarke with those eyes that made her melt. She wanted to tell her everything. But she couldn’t. Partially because she didn’t want to scare her off, and partially because she wasn’t all that sure what was wrong. She had some theories, of course, but she didn’t know.

“I don’t know. This doesn’t usually happen.”

Lexa stood up and grabbed Clarke by the hands. Clarke could have passed out at this point from the way that they were looking at each other, and the lack of physical space between them. But she didn’t pass out. Probably because of the excess of emotional space between them. They might have only been a couple centimeters away from each other, but the metaphorical distance spanned kilometers.

“Just relax, Clarke. This isn’t a performance. This is nothing more than a jam session. It doesn’t matter if you mess up. Just feel the music.”

The words echoed in the garage and inside Clarke’s head. Feel the music. Feel the music. And she did. She felt the music and all of her other troubles washed away. She felt the music and closed her eyes and in that moment she was just playing. Lexa started playing too. She couldn’t see, because she had closed her eyes, but she heard her playing. They played better than they had ever played before. They worked.

Connection. Communication. Chemistry. It was all there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying my best to stick to the chapter-every-other-day schedule but im kinda busy all the time and might not make it. dont get mad please i swear i'll try my best.


	6. Instagram Candles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, halfway through the story. It's fifty percent done and if you're still reading then thanks for staying.

The day after Clarke and Lexa’s jam session was mostly quiet. Except for the fact that Clarke was internally screaming. She and Lexa had a connection. And now, it wasn’t completely one sided. Or at least she didn’t think it was. Or maybe she just hoped it wasn’t. There was a spark, right? It didn’t matter. Not yet, at least. Clarke didn’t get her hopes up. There was no way that a senior would even consider dating some petty tenth grader. But at least they had interacted, right?

That way, if Lexa somehow did find out how Clarke felt about her, it would be less weird. Right? What would be more weird, a complete stranger thinking about you day and night, or a friend? Clarke didn’t know. She didn’t want to think about it much longer.

She pushed those thoughts away from her mind and pulled out her phone. She opened up Instagram, like any other fifteen year old would and began scrolling when she noticed that she had four new follower requests.

Raven, Monty, Jasper and Murphy. Bellamy must have given them her profile. After accepting them all is when she saw it. In the “suggestions for you” section there was one profile that made her drop her phone in surprise. At this point you probably all know who it is.

Lexa Woods. Her profile picture was her with her drums, and she somehow looked even hotter than normal. And of course, like everyone else in Arkadia High under the age of eighteen, her profile was private.

Would it be weird if she sent a follow request? Would it be creepy and stalker-ish? Would she even accept it? What if she didn’t? No, she wouldn’t _not _accept the request, right? Clarke didn’t know. She had no reason not to accept it. She had no reason, right?

Clarke was panicking. Over-thinking, of course, but in the moment it seemed like the most pressing issue in the universe. To follow or not to follow, that is the question. Clarke sunk deeper and deeper into her mind, jumping up and pacing faster than a race car. She was about to have a full on mental breakdown here and there was no way of stopping it no way of preventing it this was it this was how she was going to die oh god she didn’t want to die she wasn’t ready to die she was only fifteen and she had never even had sex yet she couldn’t die a virgin she—

_BUZZ!_

It was a notification. From Instagram. Lexa Woods had requested to follow her.

Accepted. Should Clarke follow her back? Would that be too soon? Too late. She already did it. And within seconds, her request was also accepted.

God she wished she was smooth.

*

The day after that Clarke picked up her bass and set up her sheet music so that she could practice and not look like a complete inexperienced fool in front of the band and in front of Lexa. She reached for her instrument cable and—

Wait. Where was her instrument cable? She retraced her steps until realizing that she had left it at Lexa’s.

Luckily, her phone buzzed once more like it did the day prior and she opened up her Instagram direct messages to find that Lexa had found the cable and attached a picture of it along with a message.

_I’m not at my house today but you can still meet me to pick it up. I can give it back at school, too, but you’ll have to wait until then._

And maybe it was because Clarke wanted her fancy expensive cable back as soon as possible, or maybe it was because she just wanted to see Lexa, but Clarke asked where she was and how to get there.

Clarke didn’t regret it when she got there, she was just a bit weirded out. When she reached the address that Lexa gave her she found that it was a small building with the words “Gustus’s Candles” written across the space above the door.

When she opened the door she found all sorts of candles. Big candles, small candles, red candles and blue candles. Hundreds of them on shelves on the wall and displayed on tables. There were two other people in the shop, and neither of them were Lexa.

Soon, a big man whom Clarke assumed was Gustus came from the back door. Clarke approached him, looking around in awe of all the candles.

“Can I help you?” He asked.

Clarke looked at him. He was very tall, tattooed and muscular, and maybe if he ran a comb through his hair and trimmed his beard he would be considered attractive. But not even with the most attractive face and body could Clarke forget Lexa.

“Yes. I’m looking for a girl. Lexa Woods? She told me to meet her here. She has something of mine.” Clarke said.

Gustus nodded and pointed to the back door.

“She’s in there. Don’t take up too much time.”

And with that Clarke headed to the door. When she opened it she found Lexa surrounded by boxes of candle wax, wicks, and other candle-making supplies. In the middle of the room, adjusting the position of a wick, was Lexa, sitting on a stool holding the unfinished candle in one gloved hand and a pitcher of melted wax in another. She looked up at Clarke.

“You make candles.” Clarke said. It wasn’t really a question as much as a plain observation that she made.

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a thing for candles or is it something else?”

Lexa laughed quietly.

“No, no. I’m saving up for my own car. It’s repetitive work, but at least it pays well.” She said. “Your cable’s on top of the box in the right corner.”

Clarke looked over and of course, there it was. She wasn’t nervous around Lexa anymore, at least not in the way that she was nervous before. She hurried over and grabbed the cable and started for the door, but not before Lexa stopped her.

“You’re not leaving already, are you? You just got here!” She smiled and rolled her eyes.

Clarke turned back and smiled too. She took the seat next to Lexa and watched her get the materials for her next candle. As she set the mold down, with her fingers still wrapping around its cylindrical shape, she looked at Clarke.

“Here, you try.” Lexa said, handing her the pitcher of melted wax.

Clarke reluctantly took it, of course that was only because Lexa was offering. She blushed as she admitted that she didn’t know what she was doing and would most likely botch the candle job.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll help.” Lexa told her.

Clarke held the pitcher and began filling the mold with the hot liquid, but only got a quarter way before Lexa stopped her.

“Stop. You’re shaking. It’ll never be even if you keep shaking.”

Lexa came up behind Clarke and covered the back of her hands with her own, guiding them to pick up the pitcher and pouring slowly and evenly. The closeness was alarming and soon the nerves that Clarke didn’t think would show up any more returned. A shiver ran through her spine, but she couldn’t shake anymore. Her body was pressed up against Lexa’s, with only their clothes separating them.

“Now,” Lexa whispered, her mouth close to Clarke’s ear. “You take the wick and put it into the wax.” She guided her to pick the wick up and placed it inside the waxy mold. “And then you have to pull it through a hole in a popsicle stick so that it stays it place.”

How did Lexa manage to make literally everything she said or did sexy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That whole instagram scenario was something that actually happened to me in real life.


	7. Fortissimo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> where did it go??? The schedule? The regular updating to the chapters?

Weeks of band practices and homoerotic tension passed. With seeing her at least three times a week and more than occasionally flirting, Clarke had no choice but for her crush to grow bigger and stronger with each passing day.

“I was talking to Finn yesterday and he said the funniest thing.” Bellamy started one practice. “Wait, you know Finn, right?” He asked.

Clarke shook her head and asked who he was.

“Finn was the bassist before you. He’s in grade twelve now.” Bellamy said.

“Wait, your old bassist’s still in school? I just assumed that he aged out of high school. What happened? Why did he leave?” Clarke asked.

“Oh no, he wanted to stay in jazz band, but he couldn’t. He’s dating Raven, and Kane has a really strict policy of not dating other band members. He dropped out of jazz so he and Raven could keep dating. It’s kind of romantic, kind of stupid at the same time. Raven went nuts for him after that, though.”

“And this rule still stands?” She asked, to which he nodded.

Well, there went her chances of ever dating Lexa, which were incredibly slim anyway. She wanted Lexa, but she wanted jazz band more. Romantic partners would come and go, but the family and friendships that the band offered were strong enough to last a lifetime. She wasn’t going to throw that away for some girl that didn’t even like her back.

That was when Lexa walked in. She wasn’t late, she never was, but she was always one of the last people to walk in. Kane was strict about timing. If you didn’t come in on time, you might as well not have come in at all. One time Murphy was late and Kane hasn’t looked at him the same since. Not flat out mean, but in a passive-aggressive disappointed father way. In some ways it was worse.

Lexa walking in made the room brighter, and Clarke’s heart warmer. But this time, after hearing about this no dating policy, that brightness was dimmed, and the warmth surrounded by cold. She would keep telling herself, “Don’t do it. Don’t look at her, don’t think about her. Resist.” And it would work for a while. And then it wouldn’t. She would hear Lexa’s smooth, soft whispering during the songs, counting the beats and rests. Even in the loud, loud band she always had ears for Lexa’s voice.

“No, no. You have to _crescendo_. I’m telling you, it sounds better that way.” Kane said, repeating himself practice after practice. They’d play it again and Kane would say it again, just rephrasing. “Gradual. It has to be gradual. You can’t just jump from piano to fortissimo, you go from piano to mezzo-piano then mezzo-forte and then forte and _then _fortissimo.”

Even when they played fortissimo she still wouldn’t be able to miss Lexa’s voice.

Naturally because Clarke was resisting her communication and chemistry with Lexa the band sounded a bit... off. Practice after practice and she would try to resist and she would succeed except Kane would keep them longer and longer trying to get it right. The rest of the band couldn’t quite figure out what was wrong, but Clarke knew that this was on her. She kept going to Lexa’s garage sometimes, the infrequent meetings turning more and more regular, the resistance growing weaker.

*

Weeks from that and the sunny summer days turned into cool autumn evenings. Clarke didn’t like how quickly it would become dark in the colder months of the year.

“It’s never afternoon. It’s either night, morning, or evening.” She said to Lexa one day. She had stopped resisting and the band sounded better than they ever had or ever would.

“It’s afternoon sometimes. Like around twelve o’clock.” Lexa replied. They were in a practice room working out some of the harder parts of the songs. Or, at least they were supposed to be doing that.

Clarke didn’t quite remember when they started going off topic but she didn’t mind it, the talking to Lexa about pretty much anything and everything.

“Oh yeah, an hour of afternoon, that’s just great, right?” She asked sarcastically, rolling her eyes. Lexa smiled and shook her head.

“I like it. The darkness. It’s calming. Days are so hectic, nights are serene. Peaceful. Don’t you think?” Lexa asked.

“Nope.” Clarke said. “I will never understand night owls.”

Lexa put down her drumsticks and moved from behind the drum kit to in front of Clarke and her bass.

“Okay. Close your eyes.” Lexa said. Clarke was skeptical, raising her eyebrow and all that. But after a few “just do it”s and “trust me”s she did. The empty blackness of the inside of her eyelids were filled with pictures and images as Lexa’s calm, soft voice spoke.

“Imagine this. You’ve come home from a long day filled with horrible math teachers and too much homework to handle. But it’s night. You open your window and all you can see is a sky full of stars shining back at you. You don’t care about the homework or your math teacher, you just wish on that star that everything’s going to be alright.” Lexa started.

“This is incredibly cheesy, Lexa.” Clarke said.

“Shh!” Lexa continued. “Then, you go outside and to your surprise, you can still see despite the dark. Why? Because of the moonlight. The pale, white light coming from that gigantic rock in space that’s reflected off the sun. And everything’s quiet. And everything’s alright. Daytime can’t compete.”

“Really? You’re a jazz musician, I wouldn’t expect you to like things being calm and quiet all the time.” Clarke told her.

“I don’t. I just like an equal balance of loudness and quietness. If you’re playing at pianissimo the entire time there isn’t much energy or excitement, but if you constantly play at fortissimo you’ll go deaf.”

Clarke thought about that a lot. She thought about Lexa a lot. And looking back on that memory as she would time and again, she realized that they never did get to working on those songs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate all the comments and the kudos and all. They genuinely make me smile, every one of them. Thanks guys.


	8. Train Track

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so ive been real busy and all but i WILL finish this story. I'll finish it if its the last thing i do, i swear. Anyway heres the next chapter.

Lunchtime was now Clarke’s main practice time. With Halloween coming up and with that, Halloween parties, the school was a mixture of excitement and stress. Clarke didn’t remember a single day that week where she didn’t hear anyone mention their sexy cat costume or how amazing they are at carving pumpkins.

Tempo, tempo, tempo. That was what she needed to work on. She was always speeding up or slowing down. Tempo. She needed to stay at the same tempo. She tapped her foot as she played, feeling the beats of the music, almost hearing the rest of the band in her head. That was a special thing she could do. She could imagine entire worlds when she was playing, and so simulating a band was easy.

Clarke, by this point, had gotten so completely lost in her own head and in the music that she didn’t see that Lexa was standing outside the practice room watching her jam out through the window that looked into the room.

“Sounds pretty good.” Lexa said, stepping into the room.

Clarke opened her eyes and looked up, slightly embarrassed but also quite glad that Lexa thought her playing was “pretty good”, so as you can imagine Clarke’s face turned pink. Lexa didn’t seem to mind this, and didn’t point it out at all, so Clarke also had her relieved face on.

“It seems empty in here. Emptier than usual.” Lexa pointed out.

“Yeah, I guess it does. I think it’s because Wells isn’t here.” Clarke told her.

“Wells?”

“My friend, he played the alto sax.”

“Oh, Wells! That guy. What’s he up to now? He didn’t take music again?”

“He’s dead.”

The practice room went silent except for the faint buzzing coming from Clarke’s amplifier. Lexa took a seat on the other chair in the room and sat down with a quiet, “oh”. Not a sympathetic oh, or an empathetic one either. It was just kind of... empty. A kind of dull, lifeless “oh”, forever pokerfaced and filled with secrets. Dull and lifeless like Wells’ body.

“What happened to him?” Lexa asked. This time her words were filled with curiosity, not a happy curiosity, but a somber, slow curiosity. Like an existential crisis in the form of sounds spoken from the mouth of a goddess.

Clarke remembered what happened to him like it was yesterday.

They had just entered the month of July when she and Wells were sitting on her front porch. “We’re going to have some fun this summer.” Wells told her.

“Fun? You don’t know fun.” Clarke said, playfully punching him in the arm. Wells played mock-offended and stood up.

“I know fun!” He insisted. “We’ll stay up past the sun going down and sneak around town and do drugs and stuff.” He joked. Wells laughed hard and smiled a wide smile that Clarke only saw when Wells was especially amused.

But Clarke wasn’t laughing.

“Let’s do it then.”

Wells’ smile faded.

“Let’s do drugs and sneak around town after dark. I mean it.” She said.

“Wait, you’re serious? You actually want to do this?” Wells asked her.

“Screw it all. I’ll tell my parents I’m with you and you can tell yours that you’re sleeping over. I want to feel something. Something intense.” She said.

“Whoa, Clarke. Slow down a bit. You’re not making much sense. Are you sure you haven’t been possessed by an alien or something?” He sat back down next to her and looked into her eyes with genuine concern.

“I’m serious.”

And so they did. Well, most of it. The drug part was much to hard to find and much too expensive for two teenagers on a time crunch and a budget so they settled for cough syrup and hard liquor.

Wells was drunk and high when he died. His lifeless body filled with things that made his brain work differently. Clarke was drunk and high when she watched him die. When they were walking back from the city past midnight and Clarke dared him to try to balance on the train tracks. He was too drunk to free his foot when it got stuck and Clarke was too drunk to notice he was stuck.

The train came out of nowhere.

His body was disfigured beyond recognition, but she still knew who it was. She would never forget. His funeral was closed casket. They said the body was “too horrific” to look at. The body. Wells’ body. Her best friend’s body. It was horrific because of _her. _He was dead because of her.

It had been months but she remembered it like it was yesterday.

And she told Lexa. She told her everything about his death and her part in it.

“I get it if you never want to speak to me again. Really. I wouldn’t even want to see me again.” Clarke said.

Lexa frowned and leaned closer to her, taking Clarke’s hands in her own.

“Why wouldn’t I want to speak to you?” She asked. “What happened to Wells was awful, but it wasn’t your fault. Yeah, sure drugs were a bad decision, but you didn’t kill him. You did not kill Wells. Nobody did. It was an accident. But you didn’t kill him.”

“I didn’t?” Clarke asked softly.

“No. You didn’t.” She replied, even softer than Clarke.

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s bass away from her and pulled her into a hug. The first thing Clarke noticed was her warmth. The thirty seven degree temperature of her body and the thirty seven degrees of Clarke’s own felt like a fire burning in her heart and rushing through her blood. The second thing she noticed were the tears falling from her straight face onto Lexa’s shoulder.

The third thing she noticed were Lexa’s lips on hers, or her lips on Lexa’s. She didn’t know who kissed who but she knew that they were kissing each other now.

_She’s kissing me_, Clarke thought. _She’s really kissing me. _

Clarke could feel Lexa’s hands on her, one on her cheek and the other around her waist. They were as close as they could be but were in a bit of an awkward position considering that they were both sitting down on uncomfortable classroom chairs facing each other.

Then Lexa pulled away.

“No. We can’t.” She said.

“Why not?” Clarke asked, reaching for Lexa’s cheek. But Lexa turned her face away, unable to look Clarke in the eye.

“It’s against the rules. Kane would kick us both out.”

“He wouldn’t do that. He loves you. You’re his favourite student.”

Lexa got up and put her hand on the doorknob. “Besides, I’m too old for you, anyway.” She told her.

Clarke rolled her eyes and stood up.

“Two years. Two years! What’s two years compared to the lifetime we could be together if this works out?”

Lexa turned around and finally managed to look Clarke in the eye, or at least in the face.

“You think we’ll last a lifetime?”

“You’ll never know until you try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you guys liking this whole Wells' death storyline? I genuinely want to know. I really appreciate all the comments and kudos and you guys are really good and cool.


	9. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys so heres the next chapter

Clarke couldn’t stop thinking about Lexa. Or, more specifically, the way she kissed her. With longing, with passion, with heartache, all of which were reciprocated by Clarke. She knew what she wanted now, and that was Lexa. It was all just Lexa.

If you asked her what she wanted most a couple of months ago she would say without a doubt that she wanted Wells back. But now... things were different.

Wells was gone, Clarke knew that. She acknowledged it and was beginning to finally accept it. She was finally moving on. But moving on to someone seemingly unattainable seemed worse than not moving on at all.

And yes, best friends and romantic partners are very different, but who was to say that Lexa couldn’t be both to her?

“Are we ever going to talk about what happened?” Clarke asked the next day.

They were in a practice room, a different one than they kissed in, a different one from where Clarke and Wells usually practiced. One without so much baggage and history in it. Lexa turned away, and it was clear to Clarke that she was going to pretend that nothing happened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lexa said.

“You kissed me, or I kissed you. Whatever. We kissed. It was good, at least for me.”

Lexa shook her head.

“Clarke, we can’t do that again. It’s against the rules to date or have a romantic relationship with another band member.”

“Well that’s a stupid rule! Kane can’t control our personal lives, why are we letting him?”

“Because we love jazz. We love the band. And Kane might be a jerk sometimes but he wants us to succeed. Why can’t we just pretend the kiss never happened? Why can’t we just go back to the way we were?”

Clarke stepped closer to her.

“Because I know you want me!” She said, in a voice loud enough to be considered shouting. “And I want you. So let’s be together. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Lexa was quiet for a minute.

“If anyone finds out...” Lexa started in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

“Then we’ll just have to be really careful.”

Lexa leaned in and in a whisper next to Clarke’s ear she said, “Call me” and then left.

And so obviously Clarke fist-pumped and screamed internally. 

*

When Clarke finally got to practising her music, it sounded better than it ever sounded before. The timing was perfect, the notes and the accents and the rhythm was spot on.

And she wasn’t sad about Wells anymore.

Maybe that was why she couldn’t play before. Because music reminded her of him. If she had known that all it would take to begin moving on from that ever tragic event was talking to someone and opening up, she probably would have done it a long time ago. But she was glad that Lexa was the first person to know the story. Or, at least the entire story anyway.

She was... happy. She was playing her music in an exclusive ensemble and she had a smart, amazing, talented, and absolutely beautiful woman who was interested in her. And she was interested back. They were interested in each other.

Clarke let that sink in. Really, really sink in.

She _liked _someone. And that person liked her _back._ This was a feeling that Clarke’s brain didn’t know how to process it. She had too many past one sided relationships and unrequited feelings for her brain to know to process the information that was being fed to it.

So naturally she called up her friend. Usually, this would have been Wells, but recently she had found herself calling Octavia over and over again.

“Hey, it’s me.” Clarke said.

“I know. I have caller id. What’s going on, Clarke?” She replied.

“There’s a girl.”

“Oh god.”

“No! No. This time, she actually likes me. Like, _like _likes me.”

“Does she actually like you or are you reading too much into this?”

“No, no. We kissed. Like, really kissed. With longing.”

“Okay fine. Who is she?”

“Her name’s Lexa. Lexa Woods.”

There was a silence, and then a long deep sigh.

“Are you kidding me right now?” Octavia asked.

Before Clarke was able to respond, however, Octavia hung up. But, within minutes the doorbell to Clarke’s (kind of but not really because her parents are straight white cis people in modern day North America) modest suburban house rang.

When Clarke opened the door she was less than surprised to find Octavia standing there her palm out. The palm that she used to slap Clarke across the arm.

“Are you dumb?” She asked. “You can’t date a band member! Even _I _know that.”

“No, no! It’s okay. We worked it out. We’re going to keep our relationship a secret.”

“But you just _told_ me. This is an awful idea. You’re going to get caught and get kicked out. Kane’s strict about these things.”

“I know that. But Kane shouldn’t get to dictate our personal lives. What Lexa and I do in our free time is _our_ business.”

“Then tell that to Kane. I’m warning you, Clarke. This is a bad idea. You’ve wanted jazz band for a long time, and now you’re leaving it behind for some girl?”

“I’m not leaving it behind! I can have both. The girl and the music. I can have it all if I want to. And sure, there are some things to work out, but I’ll get through this. We will. Together.”

Octavia walked past her into the house, and sat down on the couch. A few moments after is when Clarke joined her.

“I need you to trust me, O. I need you to trust that I know what I want.” Clarke said softly.

“Okay.” Octavia took a breath. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Clarke held out her pinky to Octavia’s held out pinky and wrapped them together. A pinky swear. Most people don’t know that pinky swears, although seeming like an innocent child’s promise, are actually saying that if you break the promise, you must cut off your pinky.

At this point it can’t be certain that both of them will have all their fingers intact once the story concludes. 


	10. Observations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so heres the next chapter. I can't believe its almost over, but also i can believe it because i wrote it.

Clarke could barely believe it.

She was about to go on her first (official) date with Lexa. They didn’t really know what they were yet. They had hung out before and kissed a lot and held hands but this was the first time that Lexa had specifically mentioned that it was a date.

Her exact words were:

“I know this cool new place twenty minutes from here, and I want to take you out, like, on a date.”

And yes, she said it very casually and when she was finished went right back to looking at her phone, but Clarke wasn’t sure whether or not the other times they were together _counted _as dates. Sure, the times that they hung out with the rest of the band obviously weren’t dates, but what about their jam sessions?

Or those times that they skipped class to get ice cream? Were those dates? They weren’t just friends, and that was clear. But nothing else was.

Clarke had been in relationships before, or at least one relationship (she doesn’t really like to talk about it), but nothing like how she felt about Lexa, how she felt when she was with her, and what had happened between them.

Everything was new. Too new. Luckily, she was strong and ambitious and had a good amount of courage to her. She would nail this date. She was crush it. Hopefully.

*

When Lexa arrived at Clarke’s house to pick her up, it wasn’t through the front door. It was through Clarke’s bedroom window. Her window, which was on the second floor of her house, also had faulty blinds that wouldn’t stay up without a hefty amount of duct tape and superglue.

“Ow.” Clarke said quietly, rubbing her head when the blinds hit her unexpectedly.

Lexa had somehow managed to get on top of her roof with only a few skipping ropes and a limited amount of time. Three minutes and four seconds, to be exact. It was a miracle that they hadn’t been caught.

“Careful.” Lexa said, offering her hand out to Clarke, leaning over, shortening the distance between them.

The street was almost dead quiet aside from the few cars that sped through the street and the crickets in her backyard. It was by this point early November. Cold enough for a jacket but not enough for snow. It wasn’t later than nine, but with the darkness of the cooler months seemed like it was past midnight. The only light they had was from the moon and the dimmed yellow street lights.

She took Lexa’s hand and stepped down onto the roof. Lexa’s hand was warm compared to the cool autumn air. That was her first observation of the night.

:Lexa helped her down the rope and they quietly snuck away, leaving Clarke’s window open with a nickel and leaving her bed with pillows underneath the sheets.

“Where are we going, exactly?” Clarke asked.

“You’ll see.” Lexa responded, not making eye contact.

“I’ll see?”

“You ever been to a nightclub?”

*

The details of their night were mundane at most, just a typical nightclub with typical drunk underage teenagers (don’t drink kids), dancing on a sweating dance floor and kissing without a care in the world. It might have been mundane for anyone else, but for Clarke it was the most exciting night of her life because she was spending it with the woman of her dreams.

“How much did you drink?” Lexa asked after they left the club.

“Not enough to forget about that stupid no dating rule, unfortunately.”

“No. That’s a good thing. I don’t think it would be a good idea to get drunk for the first time like this.”

“Who said this was the first time I’ve drank?”

“Who knew Clarke Griffin was such a rebel?”

Clarke playfully punched Lexa on the shoulder, and then fell into her arms. They walked back with their fingers intertwined and close enough not to feel cold in the autumn air.

*

When they got near Clarke’s house it was past midnight. They were both quite tired, but were too happy to notice. Their grins going ear to ear, their eyes wide and hearts beating, their skin warm and blood coursing through their veins.

As they climbed back up the rope and onto the roof of Clarke’s house, Lexa shifted to open Clarke’s window for her, but Clarke stopped her, grabbing her hand.

“No. Stay here with me.” Clarke told her. It was too dark to see her face, but the dim moonlight illuminated her edges and silhouette, giving Lexa a sort of ethereal glow.

“It’s late.” Lexa said, looking down.

“I don’t care. Just stay for a little bit.”

Eventually Lexa did stay, but not that night. Not the second night either. But on the third, they both lied down on Clarke’s roof and watched the stars, well, the ones that they could see, as the light pollution in the neighbourhood was quite high.

But they didn’t care. It wasn’t about the stars. It wasn’t about the gazing. It was about the being together. About the lack of space between them and the feeling of closeness and intimacy. They didn’t need to talk, although they did enjoy their conversations a lot.

Even as autumn passed and turned into winter and their light jackets turned heavy and Lexa’s high tops turned into snow boots, their nights together was something that Clarke could look forward to, for at night they didn’t have to worry about being seen by the other band members or worry about school assignments or the upcoming music showcase. At night they were together and that was all.

Even after Clarke had told her family about Lexa and she no longer had to climb up through her window every time they wanted to see each other outside of school, their nights persisted, every time starting with Lexa climbing up, just for the sake of climbing and for the sake of nostalgia.

They laughed and they smiled and they talked and they didn’t. They held hands and held each other close and sometimes they didn’t even need physical contact to know that the other one would be there no matter what.

It had only been a couple of months and yet they felt as if they had been dating for years and years.

They were happy and everything was perfect.

If only it could have stayed that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very much underestimated how hard it would be to reply to comments.


	11. Showtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi gayz so heres the thingy or whatever

“Do you want me to pick you up?” Lexa asked over the phone.

“No, you shouldn’t. It’ll be too suspicious.” Clarke replied.

It was the night of the big competition. The night that they’d been training for since the beginning of the year. Tension and stress was high within the band, although Clarke didn’t know that yet. She was getting dressed in her bedroom as she talked to Lexa. She wore the Arkadia High provided blazer with its logo on the breast and a an ironed black shirt underneath. The same as the rest of the band.

It didn’t exactly look good on Clarke. The too-boxy shoulders and the way it draped wasn’t doing her any favours.

But Lexa looked amazing. The fit was somehow perfect, or maybe it was just because Lexa was practically perfect, genetically, anyway.

When she saw Lexa she wanted nothing more than to pull her into an embrace, to kiss her, or maybe just hold her hand. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t touch her, not in front of everyone.

It was still another ten minutes before they were on. Some other band was playing and they were good. Like, really good. Suddenly their odds of winning the competition seemed slimmer. Suddenly their confidence went down, just a little bit.

Kane was running around backstage with the rest of the band, talking to Bellamy and making sure that everyone was in tune and ready to perform.

“Alright, everyone’s ready, right?” He asked.

They all replied yes in unison, some of them shuffling around their folders and others messing around with their instruments, quiet enough not to bother or interfere with the performing band.

Clarke looked over at Lexa, a couple of metres away from her, talking to Lincoln and Monty. She smiled. She walked up to the edge of the room, looking through the gap between the walls and seeing a sliver of the crowd and the performing band. They looked like high school students and wore clothes that fit them. They could play, really play. They played better than Arkadia.

And then it happened.

The drummer missed a beat. And then the bassist missed a beat. And in turn the whole band missed a beat. And as hard as they tried, as hard as the conductor tried, they couldn’t salvage it. At least not enough of it.

Maybe they had a chance after all.

At least she hoped they had a chance.

“You dropped your music.” A voice said.

“One minute!” Kane called out, warning the band.

She turned around to see Raven holding up a page of “Caravan” that had fallen from her hand. She quickly looked through the pages to make sure it was the only one that she had lost before taking it from Raven with a “Thanks”.

And that was when Raven leaned in.

She leaned in close with her mouth next to Clarke’s ear and said the words Clarke didn’t want to hear.

“I know about you and Lexa.”

Her heart dropped. She didn’t want to, but she had to get out there. She had to perform. She had to compete. She hurried away and onto the stage, but the words that Raven had said troubled her.

Once on stage and settled in, Lexa leaned over her drum set and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Clarke shot her a look and Lexa didn’t know what to make of it except that there was a problem.

But they had to play. Kane was raising his hand about to start the song, making eye contact with the leaders of the sections and the key members of the band, including Clarke and Lexa. And then she started playing. Caravan was first, so Lexa was the first person who made a sound. Then came Clarke, and the rest of the band followed.

They were...

Good?

Clarke didn’t really believe it. She was playing _well. _She didn’t want to believe it. How could the uncertainty about her relationship with Lexa not affect her playing? How could the look on Clarke’s face not affect _Lexa’s _playing?

She didn’t miss a beat. Not one. Not one wrong note, not one. This shouldn’t be happening. She should have messed up. It was impossible.

But she didn’t mess up.

They played all three songs perfectly, better than they had ever played them before, Clarke’s eyes focused on Kane’s conducting, and occasionally looking back and forth down to her sheet music, purely out of habit. She practiced so much that she didn’t need it anymore.

She practiced until her fingers bled, she practiced almost religiously. She didn’t need those papers. Papers. How could she be thinking about papers when her relationship with Lexa was at stake?

It wasn’t that she didn’t care. She did. More than anything. Maybe even more than music. But right now it was just her. Just her and her music. No stress, no problems, just music.

But at some point she had to stop playing. That point came sooner than she had hoped.

Kane closed his fist and ended the last note of the last song, turned to the applauding crowd, and took a deep, low bow.

Clarke turned to Lexa, unable to keep it to herself anymore, and said in her ear, making sure that nobody heard, “Raven knows.”

*

“She knows?” Lexa asked about an hour after the show. They were back in Clarke’s bedroom. This was the first time they had a chance to talk since the performance (They won, by the way). But them wining wasn’t important. Not now. Not to them.

“I talked to her right after the show.” Clarke started. “She saw us kissing that day in the practice room. Apparently she didn’t tell because she didn’t think we’d last. But now...”

Lexa turned away from Clarke and closed her eyes, unable to take any more. 

“What are we going to do, Clarke?” She asked.

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” Clarke replied.

Lexa turned back towards Clarke.

“No matter what happens, I need you to know that I love you no matter what.”

“I love you too, Lexa.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know about you guys but performing is like... the one thing that I don't get nervous about. Its like, tests, interviews, everything else is awful but i know that i'll love music no matter what my audience thinks. I dont know why i put this here, you guys probably dont care so you can just ignore this okay bye.


	12. Double Bar Line

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All things must come to an end. All things unfortunately include this story. It's been really good writing this and its been even better seeing that people are actually willing to read this and leave such wonderful comments. Okay, i'll stop talking now. Here's the conclusion to this tale.

“We’re going to do this?” Clarke asked.

“I mean, if you’re okay with it. We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Lexa replied.

“No. I want to. If it’s what we have to do, then I want to.”

“Okay then.” Lexa took a breath.

They got up from their seats. They were both in the library of the school a couple days after the competition. Things had died down and there hadn’t been any band practices. Well, until today.

They were having one after school, discussing what was next for the band.

But that was still hours away. Raven hadn’t told Kane yet, and for that they were grateful. Clarke supposed that Raven was going to tell him at the practice. 

Clarke wanted nothing more than to sink into Lexa’s arms, feel the warmth of her body against her own and feel her problems melt away, but she resisted.

Screw it. She pulled Lexa into an embrace like it was the last time that they would ever touch. The first time was hesitant, unsure. This time, this time was full of passion, of certainty, almost as passionate as a French kiss. This time was better.

Neither of them wanted to pull away, neither of them wanted the moment to end because they knew that if it did, they would have to go back to real life and have to face their real life problems. Problems suck.

“I don’t want you to be there.” Lexa said after they finally parted. “It has to be between me and Kane. Nobody else. This is my decision.”

“You’re sure?” Clarke asked, grabbing her hand.

“I’m sure.”

*

A few hours passed and it was time for the practice that would change everything. The practice where Lexa Woods would leave. The practice where they would need to find a new drummer. The practice where Clarke and Lexa could finally, _finally_, be together in public. No more sneaking around, no more fear.

Lexa didn’t tell Kane about her relationship with Clarke. But she didn’t lie either. She simply told him that things were stressful, and with her schoolwork and applying for colleges and universities she bit off more than she could chew when she joined the band that year.

Kane might not have been the most friendly guy, but he understood.

And with that it was it. Lexa was no longer in the band.

It felt... strange. Strangely normal. Like nothing was wrong, and like this was the right thing for both of them. It didn’t feel as big as a deal for Lexa as she though it would. She didn’t regret it. She didn’t have to.

She had been in the band for a while now. She had won awards and accolades from the school and from competitions. She was fine. She had experienced all there was to experience. There was nothing left.

It was like deep down inside, Lexa knew that she had to leave. Even before her relationship with Clarke. Even before that thought crossed her mind, in the back of her brain, she couldn’t deny the truth. And yes, she would miss everyone, but it was time. Time to move on. Time to let someone else take this spot. Time to hand over the drumsticks.

Time to let go.

Lexa was ready to start a new chapter of her life, and as much as she loved it, move past band. She had her whole life ahead of her, and it was only just beginning.

It was odd, looking around the room. She knew that it wouldn’t be her last time in the room, and it certainly wasn’t her first time, but it was different. It was like seeing it with a brand new pair of eyes.

Lexa grabbed Clarke’s hand before she left.

“I’ll miss seeing you here.” Clarke said.

“You’ll see me every day. I promise that.” Lexa raised her hand up to her mouth and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckle, not caring who saw. It was over. The secret was over. But their relationship was just beginning.

“I can’t believe I actually kept us a secret.” Clarke said. Lexa laughed. “I couldn’t even stay in the closet for long before telling Octavia. This was a first.” Clarke smiled and Lexa smiled back at her and for a moment they were the only two people in the world and it just so happened that those only two people in the world were very much in love with each other.

*

And so, after jazz concluded, Clarke walked home by herself, no longer secretly walking hand in hand with Lexa and stealing kisses at stoplights.

_At least I kept my promise, _Clarke thought, _we can both keep our pinkies._

She smiled to nobody in particular, maybe to herself, but her smile was soft, reserved, just for her and her mind.

She walked alone but she didn’t feel lonely. She walked by herself and yet she didn’t feel isolated. The air was cool and yet she wasn’t cold. It was strange, yet what was stranger was that it felt right.

Even though she knew that at one point in the near future everything about her relationship with Lexa would become startlingly real. But until then she would live in a perfect dream world.

*

She got home and picked up her bass guitar, and for the first time in months, she didn’t know what to play.

But she was okay with that. She thought back to that first rehearsal and the time leading up to it. Thought back to her anxiety about not being able to play well and it all seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

That was so long ago now. So much had changed. She had changed. Lexa had changed. And from now on the band had changed.

But she was okay with that. She was okay because she had her perfectly imperfect dream world and her perfectly imperfect dream girl and from now on she knew that things were going to be alright.

END.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a shoutout to the OG readers of this story Ziminsky6 and Skylark16. Thanks guys. I see their comments on like, every chapter and I really appreciate that.   
So, this is the end. I hope you liked it and I didn't so that bad of a job.   
Thank you for reading. 
> 
> notaverygoodwriter out (drops mic)  
(apologizes to sound person)


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